


starlight

by mermistia



Series: jam week [3]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermistia/pseuds/mermistia
Summary: jambud week, day three -contactorsleepsteven and connie both love contact, the feeling of being close.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Series: jam week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621060
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	starlight

**Author's Note:**

> steven be like *yearns* *yearns* *is cute* *loves connie* *yearns*

They both love contact. 

It’s something they’ve noticed about each other, something they both know by heart, something that’s impossible to forget. Lips pressed against lips, hands held tightly, arms wrapped gently around each other’s waists. Little touches that are barely anything, barely noticeable to the outside world, but that mean everything to the two of them. It’s a comfort, a hope, a reassurance that after everything they’ve been through, _it’s okay._

That they’re together, they’re safe, they’re in love, and _it’s okay._

That they’re going to be okay. 

Contact is needed. 

...It’s not always easy, though. 

Connie winces as a hand presses against her stomach. “Steven-”

“Sorry!”

The hand pulls away, and Connie relaxes, stretching before wincing as Steven hisses in pain. 

“Connie, you’re kicking me!”

“Oh, sorry!”

Steven’s noise of pain turns into a short laugh, sharp and amused as he wraps his arms around Connie’s waist and pulls her in, settling the blanket over the two of them, their ankles and feet poking out of the bottom. “We’re not very good at this, are we?”

“We’re not so bad,” Connie says, and an apology flies out of her mouth as she moves her arm and Steven ducks to avoid being elbowed in the face. “...Okay, yeah, maybe we’re bad at this.”

“It’s just going to take a little effort. Look.” Steven pulls away, shuffling backwards and giving Connie space to move. “Get comfy.”

She does, with a grip of the blanket and a quick shift in position, and then gestures out to Steven with open arms. “Come back to me.”

Steven smiles. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” His head comes to rest under her chin, his arms pressed up against her and her hands holding gently to his waist, her face nuzzling softly into his hair as they both breathe out a sigh of contentment. It’s comfy, it’s warm, and they have each other; something Steven knows he’s never going to get tired of. He twists his hand to trace the freckles on Connie’s arm, connecting the dots in a secret pattern that only he knows, and he tilts his head up to look at her, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face. 

“I love you,” he whispers, hands trailing down to her wrist, and he feels any tension that had been inside of him disappear when she says it back, a sleepy and quiet declaration of love that he swears he’s never going to forget. 

She’s almost asleep now, he can tell. Connie’s always been one to fall asleep fast, while Steven’s been finding himself sleeping less and less as he’s grown, another part of his humanity disappearing. But he doesn’t think about that; not now, not like this. That’s pain, pure and simple pain, and it’s something that’s impossible to feel when Connie’s holding him like this, her breathing syncing with his as the moonlight streams through the glass of the door and casts light across her face, making her glow even brighter than she usually seems to. 

He’s in love. 

It hits him, sometimes. The full force of it, the meaning behind it, the truth and sureness and importance of it; love. There’s no other way to describe it. No other way to describe the way that Connie’s hand resting on his hip makes him feel, the way the sound of her breathing seems like the only thing keeping the world turning, the way he’s so close to her that he can almost count each one of her eyelashes, and the way that even so he still wants to get closer. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be close enough. 

He doesn’t think it’s possible. 

But for now, this is enough. Connie is always enough. She’s everything to him. She’s love. 

She shifts a little, murmuring something in her sleep that he can’t quite make out, her grip on him tightening as she shifts and shuffles closer to him, burying her face deeper into his hair. More words fall from her lips, unintelligible but sounding strangely like his name, and Steven resists the urge to laugh as her hand brushes his side a little too lightly, tickling him over the fabric of his shirt. 

His hand slides down to meet hers, lacing their fingers together, and he turns his head to stare through the glass of the door, blinking in the dull light. The sky is a misty grey-blue, and if he sits up a little and cranes his neck he can see where the sea meets the sand. But he stays flat against the bed in Connie’s arms, eyes drifting upward to look at the clouds moving slowly through the sky, the moon casting soft light onto the blanket, the stars twinkling like thousands of little lanterns above him, each glowing with its own bright fire a million miles away. 

It’s beautiful, but not in the same way that Connie is. 

The sky is beautiful in a cold way; blue like ice, filled with stars that are burning to the touch and distant to the eyes. So far away, so cold. 

But Connie is _here._ Soft breaths, soft hair, soft hands, and she’s _here,_ a presence of warmth and comfort and pure unrivalled love that fills the room with a feeling that Steven can’t describe; it’s just _home._ No coldness, no distance, no secrets and lies and battles to be fought; she’s here, she’s with him, they’re okay, and he loves her. It’s more than he ever thought he’d get, more than he ever thought he deserves. But it’s true, it’s real, she’s really here, and every part of him is screaming to wake Connie up, to shake her gently and whisper soft words of adoration to her, to make sure that she knows exactly how loved she is. 

He doesn’t, though. 

He lets her sleep; she needs it. 

And he knows that she knows she’s loved. 

He tells her everyday.

But he still needs to say it. 

“I love you, Connie,” and his eyes flutter closed as he falls asleep in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> he loves her!!!!! i cry


End file.
